


I'm Just Max

by selkieskin



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive sibling, Angst, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Conflict Resolution, Dungeons & Dragons, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Families of Choice, Family, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Misgendering, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Self-Acceptance, Slow Build, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, supportive friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selkieskin/pseuds/selkieskin
Summary: Max is a transboy, in Hawkins, Indiana, in the 1980s. His stepdad and mother have started to put a lot of pressure on him to wear dresses and makeup, and to be more ladylike, and call him 'Maxine', which he can't stand. And his home life with his stepbrother Billy is horrifying enough anyway, without this new pressure from them, along with still having to hide Lucas from them.Lucas is his boyfriend, and he doesn't know that his girlfriend is actually not a girl at all. He knows something more is up with Max than what they talk about on their walks in the woods, when they are hiding from their families. As they navigate through friendships and family dynamics together, he eventually starts to piece it together.The chapters that are told through the point of view of Lucas do contain some misgendering, first using 'she' and then at a seminal moment switching to 'he' as he realises what Max has been saying to him.





	I'm Just Max

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be told mostly through Lucas. He doesn't know what trans people are (and has no way of finding out easily in those pre-internet small-town-library days – remember, you people who know what being trans is will find certain scenes much more obvious than Lucas will), and besides, the story starts before Max comes out to him and long before Max really explains what's going on with him, properly. Therefore I will be using the wrong pronoun for large chunks of this story. That will change eventually (but this will be a slow fic), so I hope it doesn't make too many of you dislike this story in the meantime.
> 
> Also, I am from the UK, so if there are any inaccuracies or words they wouldn't use (I will be trying to use American vocabulary in dialogue, at least) let me know. I also wasn't alive in the 80s, so... same deal.

Everything just felt wrong nowadays.

Max could remember a time when everything was safe, at least. When home meant something more than somewhere you had to go back to to sleep. When home meant a place where you could relax, where you could let go and be yourself a little more, where it was alright to think about the other stuff – the stuff that hadn't been right in a long time. The stuff that was pushed down deep. The stuff that nobody else knew about.

Once upon a time, the thought of going home didn't bring on a sick feeling of dread. Once, going to sleep would just take place in the quiet of the night, with everyone in the family relaxed, unwinding, and going to sleep themselves.

Of course, that felt like another person's life, now. Or maybe what was happening now was. It was hard sometimes to comprehend just how different things were between the two. Before, it was easy to ignore what other noises were happening in the house, because they didn't matter. Now, it was like a wire directly to Max's brain, with the sound turned up way too loud, impossible to turn down.

Those all-too-familiar heavy footsteps walked past the door of the room, and into the next one, door creaking as he entered.

“Boy,” came the voice, tone low and dangerous.

Silence. Thick, and poisoned.

“Boy. I'm talking to you.”

“Y-yes sir.” Shaking. Max buried further under the blanket, not wanting to hear.

“I was talking to Mrs. Rogers from next door today. Told me she heard some of your behaviour was rubbing off on your sister.”

Max froze. What behaviour? Icy fear began to build up, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe. _What behaviour?_

“I'm sorry s-” Cut off by the noise of an impact. A pained intake of breath, and a suppressed cough. Billy had tried to get it over with quickly, he'd panicked, and he was paying the price.

“Aren't you going to even ask what I mean by that? So I'm right, am I?”

Max knew his mind would be racing. He couldn't deny knowledge of it without making it sound like he wasn't keeping a close enough watch, and he couldn't say that he knew without digging himself deeper. Max didn't want a closer watch, didn't want any more to do with Billy than whatever uneasy system they had in place now. Billy didn't even want as much contact as they did have.

“She's still in middle school, sir. We don't go to the same-”

“Don't talk back to me.” Sharp. A threat. “What did I tell you about your hair? Tell me.”

“T-t-that it makes me look like a _faggot_ , sir.”

“That's right. And do you remember what I said I would do if people started to talk?”

Max's eyes screwed up, as if that would block out the noise, as if wishing would make it stop, bracing for impact despite being in the next room over.

“You said you'd... you'd cut it off.” The response sounded more strained than usual. Neil had really hit a weak spot, and he knew it. When he next spoke, it sounded satisfied.

“That's right.” Another silence, as he let that threat's full impact sink in. Then, once what felt like hours had passed, he spoke again, reaffirming. “That's right. So if I hear one more thing about Maxine not acting the way a girl should... it'll be on your head. You're her brother, you need to look out for her. Lead by example. Show her what's right and wrong. What do I always say?”

“R-respect and responsibility.”

“Respect and responsibility.” Another long, drawn-out silence. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” Billy responded, sounding weak with relief.

And that was the end of it. Mercifully short, the way it was sometimes, but that didn't make it any easier for Max to know that Neil would be coming this way next. The door creaked slightly as it was pushed open. His face appeared, carefully blank, as if everything was normal.

Max hated him.

“Have you brushed your teeth, Maxine?”

“It's Max,” said Max, praying that the protection that came with being the child of his new wife wasn't about to wear off just yet.

“No,” said Neil, and that felt like a punch to the gut, a jolt of foreboding. He stroked his moustache, making a show of thinking how to explain this nicely. “That's not a name that fits a lovely young lady like the one you're becoming. I'm your stepfather now, and that comes with making sure I'm doing the best for you. I've indulged you for a while, but that needs to stop. We need to become a proper family.”

“You're not my dad,” came the response, but they could both tell it was weak and scared.

“I am acting in that role while you are under my roof, Maxine.” Something about that name killed something inside Max, making it hard to respond. It felt like a threat. Like this might be just the beginning. Like fighting it would make it more obvious, would expose the fragile parts, the sensitive parts, the parts that hurt most already. Max had a better sense of self-preservation than that. “Now, I asked you: have you brushed your teeth?”

“Not yet.”

“Then go on. It's bed time.”

Max gladly escaped past him, and tried to walk calmly to the bathroom, shutting and locking the bathroom door. Even though there wasn't really a need for it for just teeth-brushing, Max needed it to feel safe – Neil forbid locks on bedroom doors. He said he didn't want to live in the sort of house where children had locks on their doors, but that was a sick warping of the truth – he was the whole reason why they might want locks on their doors in the first place, and it meant that this was one of the only 'safe' places in the house. Max let out a shaky breath, and looked up.

The sight in the mirror was a familiar one, but it was one that Max still felt a weird lurch of lack of recognition every morning and evening, when being in front of the bathroom sink made the image hard to avoid. Long, slightly wavy red hair framed a girlish face, pale and this time paler than usual. Pink, full lips set into a line. Round blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, staring back. 

That wasn't Max Mayfield. Max wasn't some lovely young lady, wasn't Billy's sister, wasn't... _Maxine_.

He wasn't any of those things at all. And he didn't know what that meant.

The reality of what had just transpired hit him, and he dropped the toothbrush into the sink, his hands too weak to grip it any more. He realised he was trembling uncontrollably. He stared at his hands, trying to make them still again. It didn't work.

Until now, Neil had left Max to his own devices, more or less. Anything that he had mandated had mostly been to hurt Billy, while Max escaped his attentions. Billy, on the other hand, had always been the one Max was most worried about. From the first moment they were left in a room alone together, he had threatened and lashed out at Max, had used him as stress relief, had seemingly done things to him just for the sadistic fun of it. He'd always been worse to Max than his dad had ever been. But if that was about to change... Max didn't know if he could cope.

\--- 

It was a familiar chain reaction, now. A pecking order, of sorts. Neil would hurt Billy, and in retaliation... Billy would hurt Max. It was inevitable. But the wait was the worst part, the silence as Billy waited for everybody in the house to fall asleep, so that he could come and hurt Max the way his dad hurt him. And Max would always be trapped in his room, ripe for the picking. It was just one of the many fucked-up things about this whole new situation.

And Billy knew that Max wouldn't tell. Knew Max cared about his wellbeing enough to play along and make sure Neil never found out. Knew how to play that so that the quiet worked to his advantage.

Sure enough, the door gave that slight creak as it opened, and he jumped awake. Not quick enough to get away from Billy, who covered the distance across the room in two silent strides and was suddenly there, eyes wide, nostrils flared, pure solid muscle, his giant fist coiled in the fabric at the front of Max's pyjamas.

“Get off me,” Max hissed, practically spitting.

“You,” he said, quiet enough to not be heard unless he was as close to his face as he was now. “You did this. What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn't do anything to your stupid Mrs. Rogers.” He rolled his eyes. “She saw me walking with my friends, and I was muddy. She tutted at me. She's a bitch.”

Billy shook him, and his head thudded back against the pillow, teeth whacking together with the impact. All silent, as Billy was so well-practiced at doing.

“ _You're_ a fucking bitch. You and your faggot friends. Why the fuck are they all boys, huh? Do you _like_ it?” He stuck his tongue out, lasciviously, making it clear what he was implying. Max felt sick and tried to push him away.

“Oh my god! No, what do you even-”

“Hey,” he hissed, and the warning tone was almost like his father's. “You're a stupid kid. You're messing in stuff you don't understand. And if my dad does anything to me because of you,” he got closer, and Max always hated the smell of him, reeking of nervous sweat and alcohol, clogging his nostrils, “I'll just have to cut one of your friends instead. Maybe... maybe that little black kid you always say you don't hang out with.”

“You wouldn't dare,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Push me. Go on, try it.”

Max changed tack.

“He's not even my friend. You've got it into your head that you think he is, but I barely even know him.”

Billy grinned, and that disgusting long tongue came out, again.

“Oh really? Well, he sure is thirsty for your little ass, _Maxine_.”

His eyes flew wide, and he glared up at Billy in what he hoped was a threatening way.

“You don't have to call me what he calls me.”

“It's your name, isn't it?”

His heart sank more, if that was possible. Not that he was ever truly stupid enough to believe that Billy of all people would have his back. Or, he thought as he looked at Billy's cruel face, maybe he was. He had to stop doing that. Trusting people just got you hurt.

“You can't be fucking serious. No one calls me Maxine.”

“They do now." Billy was still grinning, getting some sort of crazed high off the situation. "Better prepare yourself, _Maxine_ , because your life's about to go to shit.”


End file.
